


Until The Sun Has Fully Risen

by skatzaa



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, JediFest Summer Fling Exchange 2017, Mentions of miscarriage, New Parents, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: Someone—a healer, most likely—once told them that the most unexpected thing about an infant is everything you don’t expect to happen. If Bail had better understood, then, what she meant, he would have sat down and listened to every story she was willing to part with. But he didn’t know, and so he didn’t ask for more.





	Until The Sun Has Fully Risen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nichestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nichestars/gifts).



> Written for the JediFest Summer Exchange 2017. All of the prompts I received were intriguing, but I was particularly drawn to this one: "Bail/Breha adjusting to baby Leia after years of wanting a child."
> 
>  **A disclaimer:** I have never dealt with an infant over an extended period of time, so most of what Bail and Breha go through is pulled from what my aunt told me about her children and then elaborated on. Profusely. Apologies for any inaccuracies as a result.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy it (especially my recipient)!

They bring Leia home, after the tragedy of Padmé and the Jedi and the Republic, after the betrayal of Sidious and Vader. Bail brings Leia home to Breha, and they’ve both spent so long preparing for this exact moment that Bail doesn’t even think to be nervous. 

She’s small, both from a premature birth and sharing a womb, but Bail remembers that her brother had been smaller. He wonders if that will mean something for her personality, years from today, but now, she’s still just about the size of his forearm, and he can easily fit her head in the palm of his hand. 

She’s the most precious thing he’s ever held, and when he sees the look on Breha’s face as she holds their daughter, he has to apologize, silently, to whatever bit of Padmé’s ghost that still lingers, because he already can’t imagine living the rest of their lives without this little girl there with them. 

Bail sits beside his wife, and thanks every star in the galaxy that he has them both. 

*

Someone—a healer, most likely—once told them that the most unexpected thing about an infant is everything you don’t expect to happen. If Bail had better understood, then, what she meant, he would have sat down and listened to every story she was willing to part with. But he didn’t know, and so he didn’t ask for more. 

*

Leia cries, almost nonstop, for the first four days. 

Nothing they try will get her to stop for longer than a few moments, not even to eat or sleep. Neither of them sleep much at night, because one of them is always awake with her and the other usually is too, unable to rest because their hearts ache at how unhappy she is. They begin to snap at one another, ugly words that strike too close to the heart, and he isn’t sure if it’s the lack of sleep or Leia’s own influence through the Force, which Obi-Wan warned him of. But Bail knows, one way or another, that it has gone too far when he says something that makes Breha go silent and cold, pulling back into the persona of an aloof leader. 

He retreats to somewhere in the palace where he cannot continue to hurt his wife, where Leia’s influence—if that’s truly what it was—cannot touch him, and he pulls out his personal comlink. 

*

Bail’s sisters, Rouge, Tia, and Celly, and Breha’s own sister Deara arrive at the palace during the afternoon of the second day. 

Breha has had to cancel all her meetings, few as they are in the wake of the Empire’s creation, and Bail hasn’t seen the inside of his office since… stars only know when. They have the best healers and midwives available on planet at the moment, and they have each devoted as much time as they can to helping Leia adjust, but it’s still a relief to see their four sisters step off of the shuttle. 

Deara sweeps over and scoops Leia from his arms, still screaming. Celly pats Bail on the cheek as she passes, and then all four of them are gone, perhaps to find Breha, or perhaps simply to coo over their new niece. 

Bail stands, staring blankly out towards the mountains, trying to appreciate the silence. But his whole body is heavy with exhaustion, and the light reflecting off the snow sears his already burning eyes, so he stumbles back to their rooms to sleep. He hopes Breha will manage to do the same. 

*

Breha can’t nurse Leia, which is something they’re both acutely aware of but haven’t addressed outside of finding a new mother who can also feed Leia for these first few months. 

Bail worries that Breha fears she’ll never be a good enough mother; the miscarriages were devastating for the both of them, and not something they’ve ever truly spoken of. But they were undeniably worse for his wife, who blames herself at least as much as Bail blames himself. 

He sits in the smallest dining room with their sisters and listens to Deara and Rouge discuss how the best way to build the bond between mother and infant is to breastfeed, and he _knows_ it would tear Breha to pieces to hear this. He’s breathlessly glad she’s busy with hearings today, and that the other two are off attempting to calm Leia enough that she will sleep, because it means Breha doesn’t have to hear it and Bail doesn’t have to listen to _four_ of them offer their opinions on the matter. 

Bail forces his fists to loosen around his silverware, pushes back from the table, and excuses himself. Neither of their sisters notices him go. 

There’s a bottle of Corellian rum in one of his desk drawers that is calling his name. Bail doesn’t want to be around Leia drunk, but Obi-Wan warned him about Leia’s potential Force sensitivity, and he thinks he has already seen the evidence of it himself, so he would rather be drunk than angry in her presence. 

It’s nothing more than an excuse and Bail knows it, but that doesn’t stop him from making the walk to his office anyway. 

*

The morning of the fourth day, Bail goes to the gardens between meetings with the palace staff, Leia in cloth sling against his chest. Someone less important than the Queen’s husband would do the task of taking monthly reports, usually, but Bail is desperate for something useful to occupy his time. With the rise of the Emperor, he’s not sure he will be able to make himself return to a Senate that will likely be little more than puppets dangling from the ends of the Emperor’s strings. 

Bail looks down at Leia’s little face, which is thinner and more palid than it should be because she isn’t eating or sleeping enough. She’s tired herself out to the point that she isn’t screaming, but she has still fussed and cried all morning. 

Her eyes are scrunched up now as she whines, a small, sad noise that breaks his heart. Bail can feel the tears welling in his eyes, because he just doesn’t know what to _do_ to help her. 

Leia makes the sound again and her breath hitches like she’s about to begin crying once more, and Bail has to work his mouth and blink for a moment to keep from crying himself. 

“Shhh, Leia,” he whispers, bringing up one arm to cradle her body more closely to his and smoothing a finger of his other hand down the soft skin of her cheek. “Shhh, my darling. It will be alright, I promise.” 

There, surrounded on all sides by the native flora of his home world, he sings her lullaby after lullaby and sways to-and-fro in time with the songs. 

Padmé had loved Alderaan, when she had been able to find the time to visit and Bail had found the time to show her around Aldera, at least. He doesn’t believe Leia’s brother will ever see it, and he hopes her birth father never will. But Leia will grow up here, playing among the trees and fiendishly dashing down every hallway, if she turns out to be as precocious as she’s promising. 

“Leia,” he croons, and then he sings it: “ _Le-li-la_.” 

And then she smiles. 

Bail stands there for the next standard hour, meetings be damned, singing his daughter’s name among the trees and the flowers, until she’s asleep in his arms and there are warm tears running down his face as he looks out to the mountains. 

*

Padmé would have wanted him to continue with the Senate, would have said that to turn a blind eye to those in need when one can help would be worse than anything the Empire itself has done and will do. He’s not sure he agrees with her; after all, she’s dead, and he’s standing on his home world, holding one of the infants she birthed in his arms. 

But he already has her daughter. What difference does it make if he takes up her fight as well? 

*

Leia sleeps most of the day away, tucked against Bail’s chest. Every time she begins to stir Bail sings her name over and over, and every time she settles. 

Breha’s smile, when she seems them that afternoon, could light up the galaxy. 

Bail leans in and kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, savoring this quiet moment. 

They’ve made it through the worst of it, he’s sure. 

They’ll be alright now. 

*

Leia wakes up just as the sun sets. 

Breha takes an early dinner with their sisters while Bail finishes his meetings. All of his staff laugh and wave off his apologies for standing them up earlier in the day. Those with their own children peer happily at Leia’s slack face and tactfully don’t comment on her less than striking resemblance to either of her parents. 

Breha steals Leia away and Bail does his best to give her whatever advice he can think of, based on what he’s learned today, without nagging, because it isn’t as though he’s able to tell her a lot. He doesn’t want her to think he believes her incapable, because nothing is farther from the truth. He is not a worrier, generally speaking, but seeing his daughter in his wife’s arms reminds him of all there is to lose. They had resigned themselves to never having this, over the course of many long, hard years. But now there is Leia, who is mouthing aimlessly at the fabric of Breha’s elaborate dress, and she is so, so small. 

Bail backs out of the room before Breha can see the expression on his face. 

He visits the kitchens and charms a small meal from Casali, the head of the kitchens, which doesn’t actually take much effort, because she’s always been fond of Bail. He eats in the hall to stay out of everyone’s way, returns his dishes to one of the flustered youngsters, and sets off for their rooms. 

The setting sun over the mountains paints the hallways he traverses beautiful, breathtaking colors. Bail has to remind himself as he goes of the injustice that has swept over the galaxy, because here, on Alderaan, everything seems at peace, for now. He wonders if this is how it always goes, if this is something survivors of wars and cruel regimes forget to remember, after: it starts quietly. It seems far away, unimportant in comparison to things like beautiful sunsets and newborns, until it arrives on your doorstep. 

Bail reaches his and Breha’s rooms and lets himself in, but stops just inside the entrance, because Leia is crying again, the type of hiccuping sobs unique to infants of all species, it seems. He closes his eyes, trying not to let the weight of defeat drag him down. 

When he opens his eyes again, he sees Breha silhouetted against one of the most stunning views Aldera has to offer, Leia clutched to her chest, one hand rubbing circles on Leia’s back. She bounces as she paces, but Leia doesn’t stop. 

Bail moves closer and Breha looks at him with tears on her cheeks, though her hand doesn’t pause its motion. 

“I’m sorry,” Breha whispers, and she’s still looking at him but it is meant for their daughter. “I’m sorry, little Lelila, I’m sorry.” 

Bail steps forward and enfolds Breha in his arms so Leia is shielded by both of their bodies. They sing to her until well after the sun has truly set, and eventually—finally—she falls asleep. 

*

Leia doesn’t sleep for more than a standard hour or two at a time that night, and each time she wakes it takes their combined efforts to lull her back to sleep. 

Come morning, Breha’s face is haggard and Bail knows he must not look much better. He feels _worse_ than the time when he, as the newly elected senator for Alderaan, stayed up all night to finish a crucial proposal for his first committee, because at least then there hadn’t been a screaming infant in the room and grief hadn’t been lurking in every shadow. 

Bail never thought caring for a child would be comparable to representing an entire world, and yet, in some ways, it is. 

He bestows his daughter upon her doting, well-rested aunts once more at breakfast and goes about his day, trying not to worry about her throughout his appointments and tasks. 

It’s relatively easy, actually, because there’s something much bigger to worry about. 

The new Galactic Empire may not have made its presence known yet on Alderaan, but that isn’t the case elsewhere in what was once the Republic. The core worlds, especially those that were part of the Delegation of 2,000, are being affected, but key worlds throughout the galaxy are reporting unprecedented clone activity, and not all of them were Delegation worlds. Palpatine’s Moffs, too, are quickly becoming a matter of concern. 

Bail spends the day pouring over reports and coded messages from the most affected worlds—information passed on by the network he and Padmé had begun to build before her death. He notices, curiously, that nothing out of the ordinary has occurred on Naboo, yet, and none of the flimsis or datacards that cross his desk mention a _Vader_ , or, for that matter, _any_ lightsaber-wielding beings, Sith and Jedi alike. 

It’s difficult to believe that it has hardly been more than a week. 

He manages to pull himself away for a quick, tense lunch in his wife’s office. She is just as worried as he is, when Bail tells her what he can of what he’s read so far. They find it all the more concerning that none of this new darkness has touched their planet, especially considering Bail’s known friendships with many Jedi, before their deaths, and his prominent role as one of the first signers of the Petition of 2,000. He feels, with a certainty that is disconcerting, that this is the calm before the storm; the Emperor is well aware of who Bail is and what he has done, and it is only a matter of time before he must face the repercussions of his actions. 

The thought makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. 

When he makes it back to his office he takes a long drink of the Corellian rum hidden in his desk drawer, and then Bail settles in to work, because someone has to make sense of it all, if they’re to have any chance of fixing this. 

He doesn’t know what Padmé would do were she here in his place, but he hopes she wouldn’t disapprove of what he’s starting to plan, in the back of his mind. 

Bail doesn’t reach for his comlink quite yet. He will wait as long as he must before doing so, but he knows it’s only a matter of time. 

*

Tia is bouncing Leia on her lap when Bail finds them in the gardens. The other three, Celly, Rouge, and Deara, are nowhere to be seen, but Bail can hear Rouge’s distinctive laugh, so they must be somewhere nearby. 

Leia gurgles happily, and Bail knows she is too young still to truly recognize him, but it warms his heart anyway. He reaches out and allows Leia to wrap her whole hand around one of his fingers. 

“How are you, little Lelila?” he asks her. She blows a spit bubble and smiles when it pops. 

From the corner of his eye, Bail can see how relaxed Tia’s face is, and he knows that means they had a good day, perhaps even a wonderful day. He feels like scooping Leia up and breathing in the faint, distinctive smell of a young infant, so he does. Tia laughs at him but he chooses to ignore her, instead dropping kisses to the crown of Leia’s head. 

They had a wonderful day. He lets himself hope it will be a wonderful night. 

*

It is not. Neither is the one that follows it, or the one that comes after that. 

*

It takes another week and the assistance of Jheth, the woman who has agreed to help feed Leia, for Leia to finally sleep through the night, but they accomplish it. 

Jheth’s own son, nearly a year old now, had a similar issue with sleeping for most of the night when he was less than a month old, and Jheth helps Bail and Breha decide how they want to handle it before it becomes habit for Leia to sleep all day and cry throughout the night. 

It is heartbreaking to spend any entire night listening to Leia wail, but they both agree it’s better than allowing her into the marriage bed meant solely for them, and it does work. Leia cries herself to sleep sometime in the darkest part of the night, and she doesn’t wake until after sunrise. 

Bail holds Breha in his arms that morning and kisses every part of her face and hair that he can reach, allowing her to cry her relief out into his shirt. He has tears on his own face, and when Breha pulls back, she wipes them away with gentle fingers. 

*

The next morning he wakes with the sun to the sight of Breha asleep beside him. The early dawn light makes her hair glow where it is fanned out across the pillows. She is beautiful, and he whispers it into the skin of her shoulder, though he is careful not to wake her. 

Bail inches out of bed and slips into Leia’s room, where she, too, has not yet awakened. He stands and watches her until the sun has fully risen and his wife is standing by his side. 

He leans over and hides his face in Breha’s unbound hair. She laughs at him, but slips her arm around his waist and leans into his side anyway. 

This cannot last, of course: eventually, Leia must wake, and Breha will style her hair as is expected of the queen. They will go about their days and Bail will finally respond to the summons he has received from the Emperor, who is, naturally, concerned about Bail’s timely return to the Senate. Breha will meet with their people, trying to reassure then and prepare for the inevitable. 

But for now, they watch the tiny, peaceful face of their daughter together. Bail knows things won’t be perfect from here, but they will be better. 

And they are.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: the only explicit dialogue in this fic is when someone is talking to Leia.
> 
> The nickname Lelila (and a lot of other information) came from Wookiepedia, as I've never written a star wars fic before, something I didn't remember until I realized how few of the minute in-universe details I actually know off the top of my head. Regardless, I truly hope everyone enjoyed it; comments and kudos are always appreciated, but never required.
> 
> Read on,  
> Skats


End file.
